Chuckle #477 | December 14th, 2011
Mommy Dearest, Please Don’t Mail that Card!
My teenage daughter is damaged goods. Or so she says. She claims that last year’s holiday photo card pretty much ruined her life. I thought the kids looked happy and adorable. But what do I know. A teenager’s mind works in mysterious ways. I get blamed for a lot of stuff, lost kittens, misplaced homework, lame tweets, etc...None of which is truly “life ruining” except maybe for the kitten.
Last year’s holiday card featured a lovely photo of my three glorious, well-adjusted children whose very existence reflects well on my husband and me. Isn’t that the whole point of sending out “photo” cards each year? If we had sullen, angry children and an ugly three-legged dog, we probably wouldn’t go to all this trouble.
What could my daughter have found so upsetting about last year’s photo?
Then I saw “IT” - the raw nerve, the open wound, the smoking gun. “It” was a wide open metal mouth grin, snapped mid-guffaw, with my daughter’s unnaturally long epiglottis dangling in full Technicolor view. I don’t know how I missed that.
Damaged goods might actually be too kind.
My daughter is not taking any chances with the card this year. She’s issued ultimatums and made demands. And quite frankly, after the drama over last year’s photo, I am more than willing to make amends. So I have agreed to not use any photo in the holiday card without her prior consent. I have given her full dictatorial veto power over the holiday card. It’s the least I could do for the poor, ruined child.
If anyone gets a card from us this year it will be an authentic Holiday Miracle.
As you can see, I’m bending over backwards to be a nicer, better parent, when my natural inclination is to say something immature that I’m certain to regret later. But what about me? Does anyone care that pre-menopausal hot flashes make life especially challenging for moms during the holidays? Of course no one cares. (But you don’t hear us telling the kids that they’ve ruined OUR lives do you?) That’s because parents aren’t allowed to say stuff like that out loud.
We can only think it, mumble it under our breath, and sneak canned dog food into the meatloaf.
I told my daughter that I was “fine” with ‘photo shopping’ a more acceptable version of her head onto her body this year if that would make her happy. I’d even be “fine” doing a Partridge Family style montage instead of a group photo, if that would make her happy. My efforts at being loving, understanding and accommodating were met with outright suspicion and lingering hostility.
But that was before we played paintball.
My daughter is now very enthusiastic about using the photo of us dressed head to toe in military camouflage and wielding paintball guns for the holiday card. She likes this photo for two reasons. One, because her face is completely obscured by a visor and safety goggles, and two, she REALLY enjoyed gunning her mother down with a semi-automatic paintball rifle. (Repeatedly, even when we were on the same team.)
The bruising was a small price to pay to get our relationship back on track.
The paintball photo would not have been my first choice for the holiday card. Writing “Holiday Peace and Joy to Your Family from Ours” seems a bit incongruous when my family is got up like a Texas militia. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
I miss the days when I could unilaterally choose the holiday photo, order the cards, and send them out without anyone complaining about a life-ruining epiglottis ‘moment’. But I can see that my daughter has a legitimate point. I probably wouldn’t want her choosing which photo of me to put on the holiday card.
What if it showed my chin waggle, or what if I was braless under my grannie jammies? What if, God forbid, I was making my “crazy eyed Wookiee face”? What if it were all THREE at once!
With that thought in mind, I am giving up my Putin-esque control over the family card. Everyone will get a say in choosing the holiday photo this year. No more drama; and no more camo. Paintball may be the cheapest form of family therapy, but it’s definitely not in the Holiday Spirit.
